


Especially The Lies

by Jade_Waters



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Blindfolds, Double Penetration, First Time, Humiliation, M/M, Sex Toys, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:43:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_Waters/pseuds/Jade_Waters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julian wants to get closer to Garak, which is harder than it sounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Especially The Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Set somewhere during Season 5 or 6, but not particularly attached to any specific moment within the timeline.
> 
> I think there are many, many ways Garak & Bashir could end up involved with one another, so this is just one possibility. I hope you enjoy it!

  
They’d had a great evening at Quark’s. Dr. Bashir never felt so engrossed in conversation as he did with Garak. He knew by now that the majority of the stories Garak told were lies, but they were such _fantastic_ lies that he loved every minute of them. No matter how he poked at the stories, the web just seemed to grow around him until he was thoroughly ensnared. The puzzle of Garak continued to hold Bashir’s attention even after all these years. After so many others had been solved.  
  
Which is how Bashir found himself walking back to his quarters with the Cardassian spy late at night after many hours of talking and drinking (even if it had only been synthale). He could feel his wonderful evening coming to an end and he only wanted more. He wanted to understand, to get closer, to finally _know_ just one thing - anything - about Garak. Perhaps some (most) people would have settled for conversation, but Bashir had a tendency to desire more physical relationships. Even with Garak, without that touch, things just didn’t seem real.  
  
They entered his quarters together, Garak playing the gentleman he so often was, making sure Bashir was safe (no doubt checking for signs of enemy operatives who might wish to make an attempt on his friend’s life). Security verified, Garak was about to bid his friend good night. Bashir could see it coming, felt his chance slipping away.  “Well, I must say, it has been a lovely evening, Doctor,” Garak said, and Bashir knew he couldn’t just let it go.  
  
“I wish it didn’t have to end,” he replied, stepping into Garak’s personal space.  
  
“Well, all good things must, I’m afraid,” Garak smiled, all ‘plain, simple Garak.’  Not a hint of what lay beneath.  He turned toward the door.  
  
“No, don’t go,” Bashir started, moving to tug Garak closer.  
  
It was a mistake.  
  
The sudden contact, the unwanted pull, snapped Garak into action - Bashir found his face pressed against his wall before he realized what had happened.  “You shouldn’t have done that, Julian,” Garak said calmly, “I nearly broke your hand, you know.  What a pity that would have been.”    
  
Garak had, if only for a second, slipped beyond his polite, deferential tailor character.  His tone remained unchanged, but the tight grip on his wrist hinted at the danger beneath. Julian knew he was treading on thin ice, but he had always been rather brash.  Instead of apologizing, letting it all go, he said, “But I only wanted -”  
  
Garak twisted his wrist a little harder, watching Julian wince. “Yes,” he said, like he smelled blood in the water, “I know what you wanted. What were you _thinking_ , my naive young friend? Didn’t Chief O’Brien tell you about our little adventure on Empok Nor?  Didn’t Nog? That little Ferengi will sleep with one eye open for the rest of his life. Why would you trust me enough to reach out like that? You can’t even imagine the pain I could cause you. Or, perhaps, my good doctor, you can, in all its minute detail. I thought you knew me well enough by now not to trust me.”  
  
Garak sounded almost angry, and Bashir could only barely see his face out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps he was angry at Bashir’s presumption, or perhaps (more likely) he was angry at himself for what he was tempted to do. The heat of the Cardassian body behind him, the hot breath against his neck, did little to deter Bashir from his plans. He was used to his trysts being a bit more romantic, and his partners being a bit more submissive, but they were not Garak, and they had not fascinated him as this man did. “You won’t hurt me, Garak,” he said confidently.  
  
Behind him, Garak laughed, surprised by the foolishness of his friend. He yanked Bashir off the wall and quickly spun him around.  When he tried to move, Garak put a firm hand on his shoulder, “Don’t.” The spy was all hard lines now, his tailor character evaporated.  It pleased Bashir to have broken through the mask.  Well, _a_ mask, anyway. Garak mocked, “And what makes you think I’d be interested in you?  Humans are such a disgusting shade of pink! So soft and squishy and cold.” He shuddered - whether the disgust was real or not, Bashir couldn’t tell. He squirmed a little, uncertain. Garak had been cruel to him before, lashing out in defense, in anger, in frustration. He always knew exactly what would hurt the most. Garak went on, “Why I would sully myself with such a backward species, I don’t care to guess. But perhaps,” he said smoothly, “Perhaps what you need is to be put in your place. Yes, I see. You’re so used to being _special_. You’re always on top, always ahead - everything’s so easy for you, isn’t it? Except me. You can’t figure me out.” Garak smiled, (maybe) genuinely pleased. “So you want more. Is that it?”  
  
Bashir nodded, “Yes. I want to understand you.”    
  
“Well,” Garak huffed, pacing away, agitated, “I’m not sure that you can, human, but -” he turned back, paused. He looked over his lunch date of so many years, considering. His gaze made Bashir feel stripped bare, completely vulnerable without anywhere to hide. Just as Bashir began to fidget, the Cardassian sighed, “I suppose I must give you the benefit of the doubt.  You must play by my rules, understand?”  
  
Bashir nodded again.  
  
“Not even going to ask what the rules are?” Garak scoffed as he marched back over to Bashir, “Honestly, Julian, you know better!”  Garak gripped his chin firmly, forcing him to meet his gaze.  In his usual, casual tone, he instructed, “Since you’re new, I’ll help you along a bit. You’ll follow all my directions to the letter. Deviate, and you will be punished.  Obey, and you will be rewarded. Very simple. After, I will leave your quarters and we will not speak of this - you know how I value my privacy.”  
  
Bashir took a minute to let all that sink in. Rules made sense - Cardassians did love order, after all. They were also pretty fond of control. It wasn’t a game Bashir played often, but, then, every interaction with Garak already felt like cat and mouse. The spy toyed with him, teased him, sometimes even convinced him that he was the cat, only to spin him around again and leave him without a so much as a thread to hold on to.    
  
At the heart of the matter, though, Bashir suspected this was all about trust. Not his trust in Garak, but Garak’s inability to trust anyone, even his friend of almost six years. Bashir wondered if anything he did would ever be enough for Garak. Sorrow at the distance Garak held between them welled up in Bashir, so he pressed on. “I can’t even speak to you about it?”   
  
Garak smiled his patronizing smile, “The walls have ears, Julian. I’d hate for any of my numerous acquaintances to mistake this little incident for a sign of my _affection_.” He pulled a small device out of his pocket and set it on an end table. Bashir could just barely hear the high-pitched activation sequence which signaled they were effectively cut off from outside interference - or observation. “Do I make myself clear?”  
  
Bashir replied, “As crystal.”  
  
“Now listen, this is important: If we do _anything_ which crosses any boundaries you may have, you must tell me immediately. Your safeword will be ‘Ferengi.’”  
  
“Is that really necessary?” Bashir asked, trying very hard not to roll his eyes.  
  
But Garak was deadly serious as he met Bashir’s gaze, “Absolutely.”  
  
“Fine, fine,” Bashir said, impatient.  
  
“Now, my dear doctor, are you sure this is what you really want?” Garak asked, his eyes sad despite the smile on his lips.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
The smile turned wicked, “Yes, what?”  
  
“Yes... sir?”  
  
“Very good - so clever, for a human.”  Garak began to pace around Bashir, who tried not to squirm. He tried to predict what would come next, but Garak was so unpredictable. The not-knowing - it was blissful. His thoughts were interrupted as Garak stopped behind him and barked, “Remove your shirt.” Bashir quickly complied, peeling off both his uniform and the layer beneath. He was used to receiving praise, being told he was lovely. Too often, his affairs were a study in narcissism as he preened under the admiring gazes of his lovers. But Garak said only, “Such an odd color you humans have.” He ran the tips of his fingers across his friend’s shoulders, enjoying the shiver he elicited.  
  
Garak led Bashir toward the center of the room. The doctor stayed quiet, trying to be patient. The spy spun him around again, tutting, “You give me so little to work with! But we might as well see the rest. Come now, off with these pitiable rags.” When Bashir had finished stripping, Garak only gave him a put-upon sigh. The disappointment in his expression tugged at something deep within Bashir, made him long to impress, or even just please Garak. He wanted to be good enough.  
  
“Kneel, human. Place your hands behind your back. Shall I bind them?  Or do you think you can manage to hold your wrists?” The Cardassian’s tone was mocking, doubtful.  
  
Bashir answered quickly, “I can hold my own wrists.”  
  
“I’m not sure I care for your tone. I know it’s hard for you, but do _try_ to mind your manners.” Circling around to check Bashir’s hands, he allowed, “Yes, like that, good, my dear, now don’t let go!” Garak pet Bashir’s hair, down the back of his neck, letting the scant praise sink in. He hadn’t been surprised by Julian’s interest - the good doctor was rarely as subtle as he believed himself to be. But Garak wasn’t the sentimental, romantic type, and he wasn’t quite able to trust even a naive, sincere Starfleet doctor.  
  
He found himself wondering exactly how far the good doctor would let him go, what he would let him do. These were very unsafe thoughts, but he couldn’t stop them. He could see that Julian was still confident in his position - not afraid of the danger he had just created for himself. Garak wanted to peel away the layers until this arrogant human was a whimpering mess at his feet. But no - this was Julian. His friend.  
  
Garak pulled a pair of Cardassian leather gloves out of his pocket. He kept them on hand in case he had to do anything... untoward. It wasn’t often he had to get his own hands dirty, but one never knew.  “Computer, lights to 50%.  Now, replicate a strip of black silk, approximately 10cm wide, 50cm long.”    
  
“What’s that for?” Bashir asked as Garak retrieved the cloth from the replicator.  
  
“Who gave you permission to ask questions, human?” Garak returned. “But since you asked, it’s for you. I’m not sure you deserve it. You fidget, talk out of turn - childish!”  
  
Bashir looked away, bowed his head. He looked frustrated. And cold, poor thing.  Perhaps he shouldn’t have ordered him out of his clothes so soon, but it would be easier in the long run. Besides, those ‘goosebump’ things humans got really were fascinating. Bashir interrupted Garak’s musings, “I’m sorry. I’ll... I’ll try harder. Sir.”  
  
“Better. Now, close your eyes.” Although the tension across his shoulders indicated some reluctance, the doctor obeyed, and Garak slipped the cloth over his eyes, tying it tight behind his head. Circling back around, Garak touched his gloved fingers to Bashir’s chin, tilting his face up.  At the scent of leather, the doctor’s nostrils flared slightly.  Despite being human, Julian really was rather attractive. Such delicate features. Not what one would look for in a Cardassian partner, but interesting, nevertheless. Exotic. Garak ran his thumb over Bashir’s lower lip.    
  
“Are you going to fuck me or only tease me all night?” Bashir goaded.  
  
A quick slap was Garak’s response, drawing a sharp gasp from Bashir.  “You will take what I give you, when I choose to give it to you.”  
  
“Right, of course. Sorry,” he replied. He kept his hands behind him, though, and Garak smiled to himself.  
  
“I try to be patient with you, human, but I have my limits,” Garak kept his tone even, put-upon, but not angry.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Bashir insisted.  
  
“Do you even _have_ manners?” Garak paced around, letting his voice circle the now-blind human, “Or are you so uncivilized as to not even recognize your superior?”   
  
“You’re not - you don’t mean that,” Bashir responded, even as he shrank a bit.  
  
“Don’t I, human?  Oh, but do go on - tell me what I mean and don’t mean, since you know so well.” As he taunted the doctor, he let his gloved fingers ghost over Bashir’s skin, holding back a laugh as he jumped at the touch.  Humans put on a brave front, but Garak knew better. Bashir stayed silent, so Garak continued, circling and mocking, touching and disappearing. The doctor followed his voice, but never could tell when the next touch would land, or where. Despite his obvious efforts, he flinched every time. Marvelous.  
  
Just as Garak had hoped, Julian’s body began to respond. He observed what he understood to be the typical signs of human arousal - an increased rate of breath, rising body temperature, and ah, yes, the swelling of the male genitalia. The changes were slight, but Garak had a sharp eye. He crouched down in front of his new plaything, quiet now, traced a line with one finger down Bashir’s throat, his chest, his so-soft belly, paused, traced the line back up again. Julian made a fascinating, strangled little sound, but held still, didn’t speak. “Good,” Garak murmured, half to himself.   
  
Bashir _wanted_. He wasn’t used to this at all. Ordinarily, he and his partner were on the same playing field, desired each other and took each other, and it was all fun and games. But Garak had reduced him to a simpering pool of need - he didn’t just want to be touched: he wanted every word of praise Garak would give to him. It was ridiculous. But Garak had turned his usual emotional and mental barriers into physical ones, turned his verbal web into this new game. The Cardassian was all around him, and yet he left Bashir in the dark, with only the suggestion of touch that could be real, but wasn’t.  
  
Garak’s breath brushed across Bashir’s cheek and he turned into it, blindly seeking, but a gloved hand caught his chin. “Please,” Bashir whispered.  
  
Garak chuckled, “So eager, my dear. What is that human expression? Patience is a virtue, yes. At least you’re finally being polite.”   
  
Suddenly the hand was gone and Bashir heard footsteps walking away. Then, yes, it sounded like Garak had sat on his couch.  “Come along, then,” Garak ordered, “Ah! Crawl, human. Yes, you may use your hands.”  
  
Bashir licked his lips, nervous.  He knew where his couch was, of course, but he couldn’t stop imagining what he was going to look like, naked on his hands and knees, half-aroused, crawling toward a fully-dressed Cardassian. Garak made an impatient sound, though, and Bashir found himself on his hands and knees, literally crawling. Garak didn’t make a sound, but at this point Bashir was willing to take his silence for approval. He managed not to crash into anything, at least.  
  
“Stop,” Garak said. If his voice was a little rough, who could blame him? This Starfleet officer was simply handing him whatever he asked for - it was intoxicating. He wondered how much further he could go. Time to find out. Julian knelt just in front of him, waiting, hands behind him once again. Garak leaned forward, pet down the back of Julian’s head and neck, then gripped the human’s vulnerable throat, squeezing gently as he forced him to look up. “That’s it. Now, my boots are rather dirty, human. It’s time you put that tongue of yours to good use.”  
  
Bashir winced. Garak _would_ know exactly how to make him squirm, damn him.  
  
“Is there a problem, human?” Garak snipped.  
  
The doctor shook his head, “No, no, I - it’s just,” Bashir swallowed, “That’s so unhygienic. Sir.”  
  
Garak smiled, nearly laughing, but said in a stern voice, “And what makes you think you deserve better? Are you too good for the dirt off my boot?”  
  
Bashir swallowed against the hand on his throat. Garak thought he wouldn’t do it, he was sure. The Cardassian was testing him. Well, he had already endured the verbal humiliation, why not this as well? “No, sir,” he answered after a pause, “Please let me lick your boots, sir.”    
  
Garak hummed a bit at that, pleasantly surprised at Bashir’s willingness to proceed. “Very well, then, human, get to it!” He let go of the doctor and leaned back, sovereign.  
  
What the doctor hadn’t expected was the intimacy of bootlicking. Maybe it was the blindfold heightening his other senses, but as he moved in close, the smell of Garak captivated him. He started slow, rubbing his face against a lower calf, giving the boot a kitten-lick before finding the other leg and giving the boot a soft kiss. The spy stayed quiet, letting Bashir work in peace. The work quickly absorbed him as he licked long stripes up the foot of one boot, only to kiss his way down the other. The taste was not appetizing, but also not offensive, and the smell more than made up for it. He pressed his nose into the leather and inhaled deeply, letting out a little pleasured sigh, the softest “Oh,” as he felt his body grow aroused.  
  
Watching Julian turned out to be far more pleasurable than Garak had anticipated.  The young man was much more enthusiastic than expected. But then, instead of stopping at the top of his boot, Julian placed a kiss against the inside of his knee. It was soft and unassuming, but it sent a shock through the Cardassian. He sat up with a gasp, yanking Julian back by his hair. The human winced and started to apologize instantly, but Garak was caught up by the obscenity of his red, wet lips, like blood on sand. “Hush,” he managed, and the lips stilled. He had never thought of a human as beautiful before.  
  
“Have you had male partners before?” Garak asked, aiming for steady.  
  
“Yes, sir,” Bashir answered. “But not recently.”  
  
“And did they fuck you, human?” Julian swallowed, uncertain of the right response. Garak watched closely as he considered lies and discarded them, an obvious process displayed on the good doctor’s face even without being able to see his eyes. At last, he settled on honesty, as he too often did.    
  
“Yes, sir. Some of them did.”  
  
Garak pulled the human’s head back further, gently, enough to make his breath come in short little bursts, and he leaned in close, blowing hot breath across the doctor’s skin before whispering in his ear, “I will make you forget them all.”  
  
Bashir groaned, anticipation shooting through his body. “Yes, _please_ ,” he answered.  But suddenly the nearness of Garak disappeared, cool air rushing in where the Cardassian had been. He turned to follow, asking, “Where - ?” But instead of an answer, he heard a couple of drawers open and shut before Garak made an, “ah, ha!” sound to himself. Then he was back, taking one of Bashir’s hands in his gloved ones, pressing a bottle into it.  
  
“I want you to prepare yourself, my dear. There’s something I need from your replicator that will take a moment to procure, so take your time. I want you to be very thorough, do you understand?” Garak instructed.  
  
“Yes, sir,” Bashir answered. He thought Garak moved away, but the spy was so quiet as he moved it was hard to be sure. He wondered what ‘something’ he was after, but he didn’t want to disappoint Garak by being inadequately prepared, so he quickly opened the bottle and got to work. Was he allowed to change position to make this process easier? Garak hadn’t said, so he stayed kneeling, doing his best to reach back, fingers slick and cool. He circled around his hole, trying to relax. As the goo warmed against his skin, Bashir pushed a single, long finger inside himself, slow and steady, breathing deep. A soft “ah” escaped him as he pushed deeper. He worked his finger in and out for a long moment before adding a second, coated with more lube. Bashir let his head fall back as pleasure bloomed hot out of his belly. He thought of Garak doing this to him, of the spy’s lips on his throat. He panted a quiet, “Yes, ah - yes,” even though he was alone. He felt his cock grow heavy as he twisted his fingers, scissored them, stretched himself wider. He wanted to stroke himself, but held back, waiting for Garak.  
  
Garak had acquired the little toy he wanted and was on his way back, but paused at the doorway, watching as Julian pushed his long, slick fingers into himself. The young doctor was clearly enjoying himself - Garak felt a small smile play across his lips at the sight. “Add a third finger,” he instructed. The human startled, turning to look but, of course, not seeing. “Go on,” Garak encouraged, “don’t stop.” Julian, clever little thing, picked up on the desire in Garak’s commands, the voyeurism. He smirked as he turned back to the task at hand, groaned loud as his ring finger joined his other two. Garak did his best to ignore his heart speeding up, his blood running south, even as he continued to watch Julian fuck himself.  
  
Garak gave up his perch in the doorway and sauntered over to his blind and kneeling Julian, whose skin was just beginning to shine with human sweat.  A remarkable biological phenomenon, human perspiration. He wanted to taste it, but resisted, only allowing himself to lean in close behind the human’s ear, breathe deeply. Julian leaned toward him, but he pulled away. He would control himself. “I’ve brought you something, my dear, something I do hope you’ll enjoy.”  
  
“What is it?” Bashir asked, full of curiosity. The bottle of lubricant was plucked from his hand, a gloved hand held his hand open as a warm, supple object was laid on his palm. He closed his hand around it - a cylinder - Garak pulled it gently back and forth, and he quickly realized, “Oh.” The dildo was textured - ridged, Bashir guessed - and not small. Not huge: he could easily circle his fingers around it.  But not small, either.  
  
After a moment, Garak pulled it away, almost whispering, “Open your mouth, my dear, I want to see your lips wrapped around this.”  
  
For all his cruel words at the start, Garak’s touch was so gentle it made Bashir ache. The Cardassian was practically tentative as he guided Bashir’s mouth to the dildo. The doctor’s heart hurt to know his friend was so afraid of his own desire that he could not take what he wanted, even when it was freely offered. He took the phallic object down his throat as far as he could, then sucked it off nice and slow, showing off. Garak let him work, as he had on the boots, leaving a gloved hand to rest in Bashir’s hair. He licked and kissed the toy, sucked hard, swallowed. He kept his hands tucked behind his back and let Garak see just what his mouth could do. Bashir pushed himself, gagged himself. The Cardassian’s hand slid to the back of his skull, helped him hold the position as his body struggled to breathe. His nose flared, his jaw ached, but he wanted it all so bad he pushed farther. At last, just as he began to grow dizzy, Garak tugged him back, pulled him free. “I wish,” Bashir said between gasps, “I wish that were you, instead of a toy.”  
  
Garak was glad he had blindfolded the doctor. That little show had left him quaking with desire, eyes wide, mouth watering. And if the doctor had his big, soft eyes to beg with, along with those red lips, Garak wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist. But, for the moment, he was safe. He kept his breath even and voice steady as he answered, “I hardly trust you enough to stick such a delicate organ of mine into your mouth.”  It was harsh, and he was pleased to see it stung, but he added, “Don’t take it personally: I haven’t trusted anyone in decades.”  
  
“I believe it,” Bashir answered.    
  
Garak sighed, “It’s as though you never learn anything, human. Why you ever believe a word I say is beyond me.”  
  
“There’s truth in the lies,” Bashir replied.   
  
“Believe it if it makes you happy,” Garak dismissed. “Regardless, what you wish hardly has any bearing on reality. Up on the couch.”  
  
Bashir felt an odd mixture of emotions, as he so often did with Garak. He knew he was right, but Garak refused to give him the satisfaction. On another level, he wanted Garak’s touch so badly - his real, skin-to-skin touch - yet he was denied at every turn.  Still, he obeyed the command and clambered onto his couch. Proving himself worthy of trust seemed impossible, but all he could think to do was trust Garak at his most vulnerable.  
  
Garak positioned Julian so that he faced over the back of the couch, spread his legs wide. He ran one hand down the doctor’s side and over his ass, squeezing the firm, pale cheek. Naked, it was easy to see Julian’s thin frame - much smaller than the average Cardassian. And softer, no ridges to protect him. Marvelous.   
  
“Please,” Julian murmured, rocking his hips back.   
  
Garak practically growled at that. How did this human - this _painfully_ naive human - always know exactly which buttons to push? He spread Julian’s cheeks, ran the toy up and down between them. As he pushed the head in, Julian gasped, arched his back _just_ so. Garak had to close his eyes against the sight just to keep going. He guided the slick toy into Julian’s well-prepared ass up to the hilt, paused. Julian was panting, his toes curled, head in his arms. Wonderful. He ran a hand up and down his flank, then let himself repeat the action as he marveled in the smooth human skin. So alien. He trailed his hand around front, squeezed Julian’s cock and stroked it once, twice, just to make sure he was still enjoying himself, but maybe also to see what sounds this human could make. If there was truth to that, Garak was well rewarded as Julian moaned rather musically, his hips pushing forward. He took his hand away, ordered, “Head up, human, I don’t want you hiding.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Bashir moaned, lifting his head. He was acting like a slut and couldn’t stop himself. Granted, Bashir had never been shy about sex, but this was different. Everything was withheld: possibilities were presented and then gloved, masked, replicated. Nothing was real. “Fuck, please.” He rocked back, seeking friction, contact, something.  Nothing.  
  
Garak leaned over the human, let his clothes brush against naked skin as he rested a hand beside Julian’s. Just above and behind, he purred, “I’d love to gag you, my dear, just to hear you beg through the ball. You would, wouldn’t you?”  
  
Tantalus didn’t suffer so much. Bashir wanted to deny Garak’s claim even as it shot straight to his gut, but it seemed futile. He didn’t want to test the point, either, so he said, “Yes, sir.” Garak settled back behind him, one hand on his lower back, the other tugging at the toy up his ass. He moved it gently, just an inch out and in, steady. Then out to the tip, pushed all the way back in. “Oh, yes, yes, _oh_ ,” he repeated as Garak took up a rhythmic pace, fucking him nice and steady.  Bashir’s cock was aching hard and leaking. He reached a hand down to stroke himself, but Garak snatched his wrist.  
  
“No,” Garak snapped, “You will not come until I tell you. Is that clear?”  
  
Julian nodded, but whined, “Yes, sir. Please touch me... Please.” The toy went in a little rough, a sharp thrust. He grunted.  
  
“You don’t deserve it, human,” Garak answered, voice tight.  
  
“I need it,” Bashir panted against the sharp thrusts, “I need you, please.”  
  
“You don’t know what you’re asking for - you didn’t when you started this and you still don’t.” Anger was back in Garak’s voice, his hand slapped Julian’s ass. The human winced, but didn’t pull away, didn’t ask him to stop. “But who am I to interfere with human folly? If more of me is what you want, then perhaps you should get it.”  
  
Bashir knew the venom in Garak’s voice well. His cruelty, after all, stood between him and the world, kept him safe, but also kept him alone. Garak hauled the doctor off the back of the couch and turned him, pushed him face down into the couch. He flailed a bit at the sudden change, but recovered, arms bracing against the couch’s arm. Garak’s weight settled in behind him, clothes pressing warm against his legs and ass. He heard the gloves fall, one at a time, onto the floor and then, finally, the hands landed hot on his skin. He gasped at the fresh contact, at the texture of skin on skin at last, “Oh, _God_ , yes” he hissed.  
  
“Pray your god has mercy on you, human, you’re going to need it.” Garak slicked up two of his fingers and quickly squeezed them in beside the toy. Julian grunted. He tried to reach back, to hold on to something, but Garak caught his wrist and twisted his arm up, pinned it firmly against his back. He took a moment to enjoy the way this pulled the doctor taut all over. Then he got back to work, pushing his fingers into Julian’s ass, stretching him wider. “Stay,” he ordered as he let go of Julian’s arm.    
  
“What are you going to do?” the doctor asked. A note of uncertainty had entered his voice, and Garak may or may not have relished it.  
  
“I am going to fuck you, human, like the animal you are,” Garak replied, mock-cheerfully.  
  
“You aren’t going to take that toy out, are you?” Bashir deduced, even as he panted against the increased pressure of Garak’s fingers.  
  
He really was bright, Garak thought. “No, I am not. I suggest you relax, or this will be rather painful.” Much to the Cardassian’s surprise, Julian did not resist. He didn’t protest or ask him to stop. On the contrary, he took a deep, slow breath, and relaxed to an admirable degree. Garak’s heart hurt a little, that this human was so willing, for him. Why? He shook his head. It didn’t matter right now. He pulled out his own cock and gave it a few sharp tugs. He had been hard for what felt like ages now, watching Julian crawl and lick and suck and obey. But pleasure and pain were things he did his best to ignore - they couldn’t be allowed to interfere with his work. Now, he needed to indulge.  
  
Hands gripping Julian’s hips, Garak pushed in. He went slow, but the human writhed beneath him regardless. His toes curled, his hands and jaw clenched. He was oh, _so_ tight. Halfway in, Garak paused. He hadn’t done this with anyone in years. The sensations were overwhelming. Part of him wanted to slam home, fuck fast and hard, but he kept control, held back. Beneath him, Julian let out an inarticulate cry. Concerned, Garak ran his hands up and down Julian’s sides, soothing him. “Shhh, hush, my dear, hush. You’re alright. But you must breathe.”    
  
Bashir’s world had shrunk down to the pain and pleasure warring inside his body. He could think of nothing else, do nothing but react. Everything was so tight, so full, too full - he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to obey the command. It seemed so simple. “I can’t,” he gasped at last, following the words with breaths too quick and too shallow.  
  
Garak slapped a hand over his mouth before he could hyperventilate. Letting only the human’s nose free, he ordered, “Breathe in. Breathe out. That’s it. In... Out... Relax, Julian. You’ve been such a good boy. If you want me, you must relax.” Slowly, the body beneath him unwound, rose and fell with normal breaths. “Good. Keep breathing, my dear,” he said as he pushed farther in.  
  
As Bashir felt the spy bottom out, he managed, “I’m so full - it hurts.” Hurt wasn’t the right word. It was something different - overwhelming, maybe. Mind-blowing. “ _Fuck_ ,” he spit out, trying to keep breathing.  
  
The human was hot inside. It was rare for Garak to feel anything other than cold on Deep Space 9, but at the moment he was quite warm. It was wonderful. The pressure on his cock, however, bordered on painful. He was entirely in agreement with Julian’s exclamations as he struggled to maintain his own breath. He was certain he was squeezing bruises into Julian’s skin beneath his fingers. Slowly, however, the human - such a delightfully adaptable creature - loosened, adjusted, accepted. Garak began to move. Just tiny little rolls of his hips. Then a fuller thrust, still slow. Julian let out a long whine, then something like words but not quite.  
  
As Garak’s hot cock pushed in and out of him, Bashir cried out, “What have you done to me?” It didn’t make sense, but then, nothing did at the moment.  
  
Garak chuckled, “Erased everything that came before.”  
  
“Oh, ah! - Nobody’s ever - _fuck_ , Garak - nobody’s ever done this to me before.”  
  
The spy leaned forward, letting himself get into it now, movements fluid. “How - unh - delightful,” he grunted. Which was true, even if he made it sound false. He was delighted, elated, to hear that he was making Julian feel things no one else had before. Maybe nobody else ever would. One could dream.  
  
“Garak, _Garak!_ Yes, come on, then,” Bashir shouted. With the blindfold, nothing could distract him from the immediate sensations flooding his body. He could feel the toy jostle alongside the Cardassian’s cock with each thrust. He was so full, every nerve was electric. He was fairly certain he was screaming.    
  
Garak smacked Julian’s ass, grunting, “What happened to ‘sir’? I thought - hmph - you’d learned your manners.” Not that listening to Julian scream his name was unpleasant, mind you, but one must keep order.  
  
“Whatever you want, Garak - yes, _sir_ , master Garak, fuck _Lord_ Garak! Anything you like, just please, please keep going!”   
  
There were no words for that little show, and Garak gave none. He only pushed harder and faster, giving up whatever self-control he’d had left. The long-forgotten build up of heat and tension in his belly had him reaching around Julian, grabbing his cock, stroking too hard and too fast. “Come on, Julian, come for me,” he chanted until Julian was shouting or screaming or crying, he didn’t know, but his muscles spasmed around Garak’s cock and soon he was coming, too, so hard, so incredibly hard that for a moment - dazed and confused - he wasn’t aware of anything.   
  
Slowly, reality filtered back in. Cool air against their skin, slick sweat between them. Garak was draped over Julian’s back, head between his shoulder blades, breathing in the scent of him. Human. Exotic. He licked a stripe along that skin, marveling at the salty taste. Cardassians were not so extravagant - salt was precious on Cardassia Prime, and their biology reflected that fact. Enchanted, Garak licked again.    
  
“Garak,” Julian nearly whimpered. The spy finally noticed the poor human was trembling beneath his weight, only barely remaining on his knees.  
  
“Of course, my dear,” Garak whispered in return. He pulled back slightly, but couldn’t bare to move too far. Gently, he tugged the toy out, dropped it to the floor. This time Julian _did_ whimper, but Garak pushed himself back into that loose, wet hole. He arranged them so that his back was safely against the couch and Julian’s back was to his chest. His clothes would be a mess after this. With one arm draped around Julian and his nose pressed against the crook of his neck, Garak found it hard to deny that he was quite comfortable.  
  
Bashir felt like he’d been bowled over, but now everything was warm and cozy. He was afraid to touch Garak’s arm, lest he pull it away, but its weight was pleasant nonetheless. Exhausted, he began to doze. Just as Bashir was on the edge of sleep, Garak whispered, “Did you get what you wanted, Julian?”  
  
He stirred a bit, trying to wake up. “I’m not sure...” he muttered. What had he wanted? It all seemed like a lifetime ago. Garak had kept him in the dark even here. But still there were those little hints, those gentle touches and words amongst the pain and cruelty. There was this quiet moment, the soft tickle of Garak’s breath against his skin. “Your webs are so tangled I think...” he reached down, just brushing against Garak’s hand, “I think maybe you get a bit lost in them along with your prey, now and then.”  
  
He felt Garak smile against his back. The hand pulled away but only to pet his side, up and down along his ribs. “Your sincerity never ceases to amaze me. No matter what form it takes.” They lay like that a while longer, together and separate, until Garak sighed and said, “I must be going, my dear doctor. I have stayed too long as it is.”  
  
Bashir considered asking him to stay, but in the end only nodded. He tried not to wince as Garak pulled out, leaving him empty. The Cardassian stepped over him, but quickly replaced himself with a blanket. “Will you come back again? I mean - like this.”  
  
For a moment there was no answer, only the sounds of cloth as Garak put himself and the room back together again. Erasing evidence as only a spy-turned-tailor could. Finally, just as Bashir thought there might not be an answer, Garak cupped his chin and kissed him full on the lips. Surprised, Bashir opened his mouth for him, let him plunder his mouth and steal his breath. It was fierce and full of desire and then, just as suddenly as it had started, it ended, with Garak pushing Bashir back, both of them breathing hard again, Bashir stunned into silence.  
  
“I don’t know,” Garak said at last, “The future is never certain.”  
  
And for once, as Bashir listened to his doors whoosh open and closed, he knew his friend was telling the truth.

 


End file.
